Butterscotch
by HoratiosBabyMama
Summary: Excerpts from Chris and Scott's lives before they ever met.
1. Storms

Because I don't write enough about their families.

-:-

The rain came down in sheets, falling against the two-story house like a tidal wave. Thunder rumbled through the pitch black clouds, sounding louder than any marching band could ever hope to achieve. Lightning lit up a room, illuminating the fuzzy blankets and tiny table and chairs, where a tea party lay long forgotten. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed once again and the little figure in the plush bed let out a muted scream.

Scott didn't like storms. Not one bit. Unless they were the pretty snowstorms that left so much snow that preschool got cancelled. Those storms were okay.

He pulled his Batman comforter over his head as his windows shook violently. He let out a whimper, he wanted his mommy but she was all the way down the hall and the monster in the closet would get him if he left his bed.

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the Sand Man to put him in the deepest sleep ever. At least until the storm was over.

"Scotty?" the toddler felt his bed dip and he peeked over his comforter.

"Root!" he lunged himself into her arms. She hugged him back fiercely.

"I'm kinda scared, do you think you could protect me?" the 10-year old asked, petting her brother's hair. He nodded against her shoulder.

"Thanks Scotty," she shimmied under the covers with him. Scott squealed and clung to Ruth as another rumble of thunder shook the house. She held him close and rubbed his back.

"Shh, its okay, God's just bowling with his angels, he must be winning," she kissed his forehead.

Scott pulled his face away from the comfort of her flannel nightgown.

"Bowing?"

"Mhm, like we did with Daddy yesterday," she smiled and the blonde boy nodded.

"He muss be getting a watt of strikes," Scott said seriously then cuddled against his sister as more lightning flashed, "He should wait till I'm not sweeping,"

Ruth ran her fingers through Scott's hair, "I'll talk to him about it."

They lay there talking about nothing until they both drifted off to sleep, storm forgotten.

-:-

There should be more Ruth/Scott cuddles in the universe! I demand it be so!

How many other people were told the bowling angels story when they were scared?

Little toddler Scott! Squeal, he's such a cutie! Did anyone else catch the monster in the closet joke? Just me? Okay, keep reading!


	2. Presence

The large house was quiet, almost deathly silent. Most rooms lay unused as it really was much too big for only two people to live in.

The sudden attack of bare feet slapping against the tile floors sounded like gunshots in the drafty house.

A small boy with dark, immaculate hair was running excitedly, something clutched in his hand, a gap-toothed grin on his face.

He darted past a suit of armor and rounded the corner, his grin widening as his goal came in sight. He pushed the door to the office open and padded in, suddenly quiet as he eyed the figure behind the desk.

She was typing away on a computer, her dark hair so similar to the boy's, tied back into a no-nonsense bun.

"Momma momma!" the boy ran to her side of the desk, smiling, and "Look!"

Blue eyes didn't leave the screen, she continued typing, "What is it Chris?"

The boy wasn't deterred by her lack of attention, "I made something for you!"

He held up a video tape, gap-toothed grin shining in his eyes, "It's a movie about our trip to the beach this summer! 'Member? 'Member mommy?" he shuffled closer, hands with the tape still outstretched.

"I remember Chris, I'll watch it later," she took it from him without looking and set it on her desk.

Chris' face fell, "But I wanted to watch it together," he looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes in the plush carpet.

"We can watch it later," she stopped typing and read over the document, mouth pursing in displeasure.

"You always say we'll do it later, we never do, I wanna now!" Chris couldn't help stamping his foot and pouting.

"That's enough Christopher!" his mother finally turned in her chair to face him, "I said we'll watch it later now go to your room!"

Dark eyes widened, "But-"

"No buts just go," she flicked her hand at him in obvious dismissal. Chris bit his lip, wanting to apologize and convince his mom to watch the movie, but then the phone rang.

"Jessica MacLean," she picked up immediately, her voice crisp and business-like. Her eyes darted to Chris and he knew that meant the discussion was over.

The little boy walked dejectedly to the door, wiping his nose on his sleeve and biting back the tears.

"Happy Mother's Day mommy," he mumbled as the he shut the door behind him.

The woman was so engrossed in her phone call that she didn't hear.

-:-

Someone get Chris some hugs now!

I've recently become fascinated with his home life growing up and yes, his mother is a witch but Chris had to get it from somewhere right?

More drabbles of wittle ScotCh to come!


End file.
